A Little Less Human
by ThePeacefulTempest
Summary: The normal way to pay for college would be to get a job at a cafe. The wrong and unethical, albeit more exciting, way to pay for college is to find yourself hired by the one and only Harry Osborn to investigate the secrets his company is keeping. Reagan Knox chose the latter, and she's not entirely sure she regrets it. HarryxOC, TASM2 MovieVerse. Mentions of other Marvel movies.
1. Useless Ability to Control Solitaire

**Hello, everyone. First thanks so much for checking out my story; it means a lot. This is also my first story so I'm really looking to improve my writing. I also want to say that I am not completely going to ignore the other Marvel movies (some aspects may even be part of my plot). I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

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**Chapter 1**

**Useless Ability to Control Solitaire**

A badly dressed twenty-some girl frantically runs down the street; bumming into people as she not-so gracefully dances through the crowds of New York City. Her gray oxford lace-up hills clomping as she runs. The angry shouts of "Hey!" and "Watch it," from people who have been nearly flattened by the purple haired young lady in the atrocious outfit go unheard by the female. This particular, and it should be added speedy, girl happens to possess no ability for dressing herself in what is usually considered _acceptable fashion_. She is wearing dark floral print pants, a bright orange polka-dotted pull-over, and purple knee-length wool socks that match her hair.

She is late to class, hence why she is dashing through the city, she's used to it though; being late to class is Reagan's specialty. It's part of her morning routine on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays (which are class days for her). The night before she'll set her alarm for 7am and not get up until 8:30-something-am. Stumble into clothes, make coffee, shove breakfast (whatever was left over from dinner last night) down her throat, shake her books and laptop into her bag, make coffee again, and run like hell because Reagan Knox doesn't use public transport. Reagan's thoughts are usually the same these mornings; they go something along the lines of: "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit," and so forth.

By the time Reagan arrives at NYU she's out of breath, red faced (although no one would be able to see with her unnatural purple hair stuck to her face), and unfortunately…moist with perspiration. She makes it late to her computer programming class, although, on the bright side Tracey, her plumped face classmate with small facial features, is used to Reagan's tardiness and keeps wonderful notes. Reagan slowly and quietly sneaked to her sit beside her brunette friend, not because the professor didn't know she was always late. He were very aware that Miss Knox was almost never on time for class; Reagan knew that for sure. He'd always give her a look shortly after she'd sit down, a look that told her 'he was dissatisfied with her _rebellious attitude'. _He'd only ever said something to her once, something like "_You're a bright student and as long as you don't miss the actually lectures and hand in everything on time I'll over look you missing the first ten minutes of class." _Reagan thanks what ever programmer programmed her with mad computer skills everyday.

Tracey gives Reagan a knowing smile and an eyebrow raise; the same expression Reagan gets every time. "You didn't miss much; Professor. Finch was just telling us about why we shouldn't fail this next project." Tracey informs in a hushed tone. Reagan groans as she shrinks in her seat. Tracey begins her pestering again, "I honestly don't know why you bother to set an alarm still; you're not going to wake up any sooner."

"Zip it, bob cut," Reagan retorted.

"Only when you do, plum hair," she chuckled.

Both girls looked at each other with challenging expressions, however, neither of them acted. They just sat back and listened to Professor. Finch. Both girls knew they'd pick up this squabbling later.

The two girls had been like that ever since they met less than two years ago, even on the day they met they were bickering and insulting one another. After they were done all their classes Tracey had started it up again at their normal coffee shop.

"Would you even get out of bed in the morning if you didn't know you'd see me?" Tracey said in a joking arrogance. Her brunette bob bounces as she skips lightly to their normal table outside of the coffee house. Both girls sat down and pulled out their laptops.

As Reagan's laptop started up she nursed her black coffee. "Actually Coffee, not you, that's why I crawl out of bed every day." Reagan told Tracey in a monotone voice.

"Glad to know I rank below coffee."

Reagan smirked at Tracey from over her coffee cup.

The girl's fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of them typing away and the chatter from surrounding groups created a familiar atmosphere for the girls. The girls went on like this for a while; it's normal for them to do this while studying. They would spend their time together and all they would do is work on their laptops. It gave them a sort of comfort thought; knowing that the other was there. Knowing they weren't alone brought peace to the two girls.

After what was close to an hour of silence one of them would break it; usually to ask the other for help or just bring up a random topic. Tracey was the one to break the silence today, "So, will you tell me today?"

"No," Reagan countered.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would," Tracey sighed. This was an ongoing topic and it always ended with Tracey getting shut down by Reagan. "Look, I already know about your 'side projects' and a lot of other stuff about you, so why can't I know this?" Tracey pleaded.

Reagan let out an aggravated sigh and pushed her coffee cup into her face. Reagan gave Tracey a warning glare over the rim, it did nothing to diminish Tracey's persistent look. "Trace, you already know that I'm a-" Reagan looked around nervously, leaned in, and lowered her voice. "-A mutant. The less you know about me in that area the safer you are. So just leave your nose out of this."

"So knowing what your power is, is worse than knowing you work as an illegal hacker?" Tracey asked in a frustrated whisper.

Reagan shut her laptop with a loud slam; startling Tracey. There have only been a couple instances where Tracey has push Reagan on a topic so far that Reagan will yell. However, with them being in public and the sensitivity of the conversation, it was impossible for Reagan to yell. Reagan met Tracey's pricing gaze with one of her own; they stared at each other, waiting for the other to crack. It was Reagan. "I'm a technopath. A cyberpath. Basically, technology manipulation; I have a connection with mechanics."

Tracey stared at her with disbelief and curiosity. A smile appeared on Tracey's lips; stating small and growing quite large and goofy. "That is so awesome!" Tracey exclaimed. "Can you show me?" She asked eagerly.

"I can win that game of solitary you've been playing, instead of studying, by just touching your laptop." Reagan laid her hand against the back of Tracey's laptop. Tracey shifted back as the digital cards started to move on their own and completed the game themselves. Tracey just started at Reagan with her eyebrows raised.

"That was cool. Can you do that with all computers? What about with any kind of technology? Do you actually have any real skills at hacking?" Tracey rapidly fired questions.

Reagan's mouth was moving but no words were coming out, she was thinking over how to properly answer Tracey's questions. "I can control computers - correction, I can control my computer and partially control other's - although, the better the computer the more I have to work. I've heard of technopaths who have a connection with all technology. I, however, only have I connection with some. I don't have the power to control coffee makers. Excuse me? Yes, actually, I do! I was good with computer science and hacking way before I discovered my powers."

"Wait, why don't you have a connection with all technology? I mean it doesn't make sense for you to be only able to connect with some and not others." Tracey questioned.

Reagan tapped her fingers on the lid of her closed laptop. "My powers aren't strong; actually, they're really weak. I should be able to connect with all machines; I know this because I can sense the energy in the air. Weakly, but I can still feel it, although, it's all blurry and distant. I think the only reason I have a strong connection or any kind of connection with computers is because I was very good with them before the mutant gene thing. I think because I understand them, how they're programmed and stuff, my powers have been able to develop."

Tracey listened intently to Reagan as she spoke. "So, aren't there places or people you can go to that specialize in developing mutant powers?" Tracey inquired.

"There is, but I have no clue how to go about finding them. Mutants aren't exactly openly welcome in most places. If you support mutants and developing the mutant gene you've got to stay hidden." Reagan replied with yearning.

"So, it's like a 'don't call us, we'll call you' sort of deal?" Tracey questioned.

"Yep," The disappointment is clear in Reagan's voice. The girls fell back into a less comfortable silence, neither one knowing what to say. The sounds of Manhattan rush-hour attract the girl's attention, horns honking and the occasional anger shout.

As the girls gather their stuff Tracey begins to speak again, "do you want me to walk home with you?" It was a normal occurrence for one of them to walk the other home.

"No, I think I'll walk by myself tonight. Thanks though." It wasn't odd for one to refuse the other either.

Tracey nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Reagan. Really, you didn't have to tell me, but it makes me feel like you trust me." Reagan didn't say anything she just nodded and waved as she walked away from Tracey.

Reagan let out a breath, "I do, Tracey. More than you know."

* * *

The coffee pot dinged to signify that Reagan's substance was complete in creation. She eagerly skated over to the pot in her socks, bracing her arms on the counter to stop. Grabbing her coffee and sitting down in front of her laptop; she rolled her neck and flexed her interlocked fingers. Bones popping and cracking as she starched; a sigh of relief escaped her. "Alright; time to work," Reagan said in a serious manner. Reagan didn't have a proper job, what she did for money wasn't practical and her pay was never even.

Reagan Knox: a freelance hacker who takes jobs when she can and is making a name for herself in the shady underground. Maybe not her proudest achievement, but she chooses the jobs. That's the agreement; that's always the agreement. She never meets her employers; because whoever they are she doesn't want to know. There's a certain bench, in central park, if someone wants a job done they leave an envelope under it. If Reagan wants it she takes the content inside the envelope and leaves a note that says _okay_, if she doesn't take the job she leaves everything in the envelope, under the bench, with a note saying _nope._

It's a hard game to play, deciding what is just too illegal and what is acceptable. There is also not drawing attention to herself, particularly from the police. Getting arrested isn't high on Reagan's list of must-do-at-least-once-in-my-lifetime. Funny though, she doesn't want to disappoint her parents by having a run-in with the law; yet that is an occupational hazard. Obviously, her parents have no clue about what it is she really does; actually they think she's Technical Support. (Although, with some jobs she taken she might as well be). The only person who knows what she really does is Tracey, who actually is Technical Support at Oscorp.

It was an accident; how Tracey found out about Reagan's illegal accomplishments. They were having a girl's night at Reagan's, romantic movies, wine, and that other cliché crap. At some point during the night Reagan left the room and Tracey, being the nosy son of a bitch she is, had always wondered why Reagan was so secretive about her laptop. Reagan came back into the room with the sight of Tracey pointing and squeaking at Reagan's laptop. They had a long conversation involving inappropriate words and flying paraphernalia. Somehow, by the grace of some all-powerful deity they came out of the fight understanding each other better.

As per-usual when Reagan works late night, she's fallen asleep, the light of her laptop screen shining on her. Reagan is in a half sitting-on-her-chair and half-lying-on-her-desk position; still in her ridiculously, mismatched outfit.

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**So, the first couple chapters are going to be a bit slow. I'll try to upload those soon, but once the first couple are uploaded I will most likely not post so frequently. If you want please review. **


	2. Batten Down the Keyboards

**Well, here is the second chapter. Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed, favourited, and read. It really means a lot to me.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own the Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

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**Chapter 2**

**Batten Down the Keyboards**

Location: Reagan Knox's apartment. Date: Saturday. Time: 11:26am. Reagan Knox: Currently sleeping on her desk while still sitting in her computer chair. Everything is silent inside the open-floor apartment; everything is normal inside the apartment. Clothes, clean and dirty, are scatter around the bed and dresser, all the dishes have been washed and are laying dried on the dry rack, waiting, ready to be put away. Reagan's bins of random computer parts are tightly packed under her bed, and post cards from her parents in Florida are strewn about the kitchen counters; words of love are constant in the postcards, so are questions about male companionship.

Outside the apartment building the ever-going sounds of New York City are sane, no crashing sounds of destruction from Spider-man protecting the city for the greater good. Just the sounds of car horns honking and people babbling away can be heard. The noises from the apartment units are going strong on this early Saturday morning. Jane Reid a single mother of three children under the age of eleven live directly above Reagan; the three children are currently running and stomping above.

To the left of Reagan's apartment lives a married couple in their early thirties, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Well, that's not their real last name; it's actually Austin, nonetheless, Reagan just refers to them as Smith. See, he's cheating on her and she's slowly embezzling money from him so she and his brother can runway to California together. Yes, she's hacked their…everything. She wasn't going to; she respects that her neighbour's crap is their crap, although, she got a little suspicious the second time Mr. Austin's hand _brushed_ her ass. It was after the third time she decided to look into Mr. Austin; not long after that she discovered Mrs. Austin's indiscretions. That's when she just started to refer to them as Smith and chose to let them deal with their muddled chaos of a marriage on their own. At the present moment Mr. and Mrs. Smith were watching the morning news, no doubt on opposite sides of the sofa. The TV volume is turned up louder than normal and can be faintly heard through the walls.

A sound emerges in the silent home of Reagan Knox; it's the quiet sound of the wheels on her computer chair as they begin to move. They squeak slowly along the floor as Reagan's body shifts; the wheels' motion begins slowly and gradually gains speed as the sleeping body shifts more and more. The chair suddenly and urgently slips backwards; leaving Reagan to be harshly awakened by her face falling off the desk and her body hitting the floor. Stunned and put-off by the chair's betrayal, Reagan lies there, gaping in agony. She's too afraid to move in case the chair decides to finish the job. Reagan cautiously rolls away from the homicidally chair and pops up a couple feet away. The first thing on Reagan's mind after an ambush like that is her morning coffee; steaming hot and bitter, to that Tracey would say 'Just like you like your men.'

* * *

Reagan stands in front of a full length mirror while she dresses in a multi-coloured pullover that looks like it's from the 80s, and forest green pants. They don't match, of course, but Reagan doesn't really notice. Stuff like whether her clothes matched didn't matter to Reagan; she was always too busy taking apart computers to notice that socks weren't supposed to be pulled up to your calves. Reagan pushes her damp, freshly washed hair off her face. Her features are average, by her account (and the guys she dated), Reagan has a square face and a strong jaw line, however, her cheeks are on the pudgier side and her cheek bones almost blend into her face. Her eyebrows are long and brown, and her lips are small in size, but are plump and have a natural upturn. Reagan has always thought her nose was too big for her face; she finds it throws off her other facial features. Reagan's build is tiny; she gets that from her mother. Reagan may be short, but what height she does have is in her legs, everything else is just kind of…miniscule.

As Reagan looks at her own reflection she begins to groan; she leans forwards and her face falls against the mirror. Her face is pressed up against the glass, smudging the mirror as her face is dragged down by gravity and her deterrent.

_Go, go Power Rangers!_

The familiar sound of Reagan's ringtone comes from against her ass. She groans again. As she pulls her phone out of her back pocket she looks at the caller: Turd Taco (Tracey). "Hello?" It comes out sad and slurred because someone has their face squished into a mirror.

_"You okay? You sound sad." _ Tracey says with concern.

"No. My face and the mirror are just becoming one."

"_Why are you and the mirror becoming one?" _ She asks with slight irritation but still massive amounts of patience. They've had similar conversations and Tracey is used to dealing with people, it is her job after all.

"It was looking at me," whined Reagan.

"_Get off the mirror and have another cup of coffee. Actually, have two." _Tracey used a tone that said she knew exactly what needed to be done. "_I'll be there in ten to pick you up. And I don't want to see you and the mirror attached when I get there." _With that Tracey hung up the phone. Tracey has never been particularly fond of parting with people on the phone. Her reason of thinking is why spend time in an awkward goodbye when you can just slap the conversation shut and avoid the whole _who-should-hang-up-first_ jig. The first time Tracey unexpectedly hung up the phone during Reagan's awkward farewell Tracey was sure she'd lost the new friend she was finding in her classmate. However, when Reagan asked her about why she had hung up on her and Tracery told her reasoning; Reagan had thanked her for hanging up. Of course Reagan didn't give any explanation as to why she was thanking Tracey; she just thanked her and said nothing more. Well, Tracey could not be happy with that. She tried to ignore the irritation of not knowing something, but she couldn't contain herself. When Tracey asked Reagan, Reagan just looked at her for a minute before speaking (Reagan couldn't believe someone had just ignored her social awkwardness and actually had to ask about it); to this day Tracey still describes the look on Reagan's face as if a whale had just tried to communicate with Reagan. Reagan claims her face never looked like that; she said she'd 'be more understanding to a whale'.

The draw of coffee that Tracey has placed in Reagan's mind grants her the strength to part with the mirror. As she makes her coffee a loud pounding followed by a crash comes from above her. Reagan alertly looks up to her roof; all is silent above; too silent. Reagan lets out a sigh and smiles, "the elephants are at it again," she speaks eerily into the empty apartment.

Reagan hears her lock turn and a voice through the newly open doorway, "did I hear something break?" Tracey questions as she steps into the apartment.

"It was the elephants from upstairs."

"Again" Tracey asks in disbelief. Reagan nods.

Striding over into Reagan's personal space; Tracey peers at the purple haired girl with question and worry. Reagan shifts on her spot; uncomfortable with the prying eyes from her intense best friend.

Unable to stand the questions Tracey is not asking her; Reagan crumbles and answers the slightly taller girl. "I'm fine; now stop giving me those eyes." To Reagan's dismay Tracey doesn't. "Stop it! I am fine. I was just-"

"Quarrelling with your reflection?" Tracey interrupts.

"More like succumbing," Reagan quickly admitted.

"You baffle me, Reagan Knox, you know that? You absolutely hate the way you look. Whenever you see yourself you go into this gloom-coma." Reagan snorted at that. "No, no; I'm serious. You dye your hair to distract from your face, you only own two mirrors; the bathroom mirror and the one your mom gave you, and you hate spoons. The only time you use metal spoons instead of plastic ones is when you have company over."

Reagan took her time sipping her coffee; she acted as if her interest was solely on her coffee. A habit she started doing whenever someone was telling her something she didn't want to hear. "Does this have a point, Trace?" Reagan murmured into her mug.

"Yes. You don't like what you see in the mirror, so one would think that something like having no fashion sense would concern you."

Reagan rinsed her mug in the sink, and with no more _wall_ to hide behind she rolled her eyes to Tracey. "You good now? Can we go or is there anything else you'd like to commit on?"

"Alright, Grumpy the dwarf. I'm ready to go if you are." Tracey put her hands up to show her surrender.

Reagan huffed at her, about to jibe back at the brunette, but was beat.

"I just think it's a little odd; being afraid of spoons, but feeling perfectly comfortable dressed like a hobo," Tracey quipped.

Reagan failed to suppress her laughter with an aggravated look, and this resulted in her snorting. "You're a bum."

"Mhhh, no I think you are."

"Shut up," laughed Reagan. "I need to print something before we go." Reagan ran over to her laptop and brushed her hand across the closed lid. She could feel the energy around her hand change as she did. The vibrations she felt from the dormant machine jumped alive with her touch, sending a plus through her body and into the air around her. Reagan became intertwined with the life in her laptop, and only her laptop. She could feel the life of the other machines around her; although, she just couldn't connect with them. It was like they were two parallel lines; always travelling together and always aware of the others presence, but never meeting.

The sound of the printer starting up startled Tracey; she gasped at the unexpected sound. "That is so cool," she marvelled.

Reagan didn't respond; she just grabbed her newly printed papers and shoved then into a yellow envelope; then stuffed that and her laptop into her bag.

* * *

Tracey waited at a street corner; she wasn't allowed to go with Reagan while she was duck-taping a yellow envelope filled with illegally obtained information to the bottom of a city owned fixture. Said criminal rounded the corner, and as she got within hearing distance of Tracey she started to skip and whistle _Singin' in the Rain_.

Tracey raised her eyebrows at Reagan. "Planning to commit a different felon?"

Reagan looped her arm onto Tracey's and pulled her along. "I think maybe we should turn this conversation away from my occupation and onto yours."

"You just want to hear stories about my job so you can pass them off to your parents as your own." Tracey taunted. "Well, here's the big headline that all the nerds are passing around under their desks with sticky notes. Mr. Osborn's health is catching up with him; word is he won't last the week."

"So if Mr. Osborn dies does that mean that his model-dating, delinquent son will run the leading company in clean energy?" Reagan inquired.

"We're tying down our keyboards," cheeked Tracey.

Reagan and Tracey spent the rest of the day running errands and working on their project. It was late in the evening when the girls parted ways; Tracey had taken the subway and Reagan walked. Reagan had made the decision to stop by _her bench_ on her way home. She was always bored when she didn't have a job to focus on.

Sitting down on the bench she looked around the area; she was alone. Reagan reached under the bench to feel for an envelope. After a couple moments of feeling the underside of the bench with her hands she found it. She pulled out the large yellow envelope and ripped it open with her fingers. She pulled out the contents of the envelope; it was a bunch of papers. In great detail the papers described to her what she was requested to do.

Many words and sentences jumped out at her: animal testing, the lizard man was Dr. Connors, mutation, the Osborn family, illegal testing, OsCorp involved in cover-up. The job was dangerous, in fact it was suicidal. Certainly, it would get her arrested.

Her mission, if she should choose to accept it, is to retrieve crippling information on animal testing by breaking into and hacking Oscorp. This message will defiantly self-destruct in Reagan's face.

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**Sweet, another one done. If you want to leave a reviews that would be more than awesome. If, you made it this far thank you so much!**


	3. We're Not All Born Flexible and Russian

**Alright, I just want to start off by saying that I am going to change the time length of the story from the movie. It felt really fast and I have more stuff to put in than the movie's time length will allow for. Also, I felt like Harry's disease progressed too fast and I found the speed very unreal. Although, maybe to Harry the disease progressed fast and we, the audience, just experienced it through Harry's prospective. Food for thought, I guess. Anyway, Thank you so much to all who reviewed, followed, put it in their favourites, and read my story.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

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**Chapter 3**

**We're Not All Born Flexible and Russian**

It was dark and cold outside when Reagan stepped through the doors of her apartment building, the warmth of the familiar lobby was welcoming. It wasn't a fancy building, but it was a very homely one, the lobby was small and only contained mall boxes and a little sitting area in the corner. Jane Reid is currently a fixture in the lobby; she's grabbing the mail from her box with two laundry baskets on the floor beside her, one basket stacked on top of the other. Jane's appearance is a lazy one, her short blonde hair is in a messy bun and she is wearing grey sweats. Jane also looks to be exhausted, bags under her eyes and her wrinkles seem more noticeable then usually; this is no doubt caused from her three young children and her job.

Reagan takes a couple large steps over to Jane and picks up the top basket when she arrives beside her friend. She smiles warmly at the older woman. "So," Reagan begins. "What did the elephants break this morning?"

Jane gives Reagan a tired smile and raised eyebrows; she drops her mail into the laundry basket still on the ground before picking it up. "Luckily it was only some plates," Jane finally responses. The two women walk over to the elevator, as they are waiting for it to arrive, Jane initiates conversation this time, "Sorry you have to hear them," she apologizes.

"Don't apologies. You're just worried and embarrassed because of your children; that's no reason to apologise."

Jane gives Reagan a thankful smile. The elevator dings as the doors open and the two women walk into an empty box. Jane presses one of the round buttons on the wall, the number 12 lights up and the elevator jolts to life.

"Besides, I love your children. I won't get mad at them for the noise," Reagan states.

Jane laughs, her laugh is low and gently. It's a laugh that Reagan finds quite comforting, because any time the stressed-beyond-belief Jane laughs Reagan fills as though she's done something good.

They arrive on the 12th floor and walk down to Jane's apartment. When Jane opens the door she lets out a greeting to let her children know that she is home and that Reagan is there. Reagan is greeted with three blonde children (one boy and two girls) running to greet her. The oldest, Josh takes the laundry basket from Reagan's hands as the two little girls cling onto her legs, Hannah the middle is on her right and Katie the youngest is on her left. Reagan thanks Josh and marches over to the sofa complaining all the way about how heavy the blonde creatures strapped to her lags are. Reagan falls on the sofa with a loud sigh, Katie is off her leg in an instant and sitting on her lap and Hannah, who was only a little slower to release Reagan's leg sits beside her. The two speak at an abnormally fast pace as they tell Reagan about their day and Reagan listens and asks them questions.

After a couple minutes of not being seen Josh picks up Hannah and places her on his lap as he joins them on the couch. Reagan suspects he was putting away his sisters and his clothes. Josh is a responsible brother, ever sense their dad left he has made it his job to take care of his little sisters.

The four of them talk until Jane tells Hannah and Katie to start getting ready for bed, this of course results in whining from the two girls, but after a stern look from their mother they more or less (less) compliantly waddle away from the three older people.

"Hey, Josh. You wanna hang out sometime? Maybe we could watch the original Tron movie?" Reagan asks the young boy.

Josh looks over to his mother with a plea in his eyes. "Can I, mom? Please!" He begs.

"Of course, Josh"

"Yes!" The young boy says with glee as he jumps. Josh runs out of the room, but as quick as he left he is back and mutters a speedy thanks to both women.

Once he has left Jane arouses conversation, "thank you so much for spending time with him. He's been a little upset since Rick hasn't called him yet this week."

Rick, Jane's ex and the children's father usually calls once a week. Jane has full custody (that was more Rick's decision then Jane's), but he still calls them. Reagan has come to care for the three munchkins and she knows the separation is the hardest on Josh since he remembers Rick the most. That's why she invites Josh to do stuff with her; she figured the kid could use a friend, especially one who isn't intent on becoming a princess. Josh actually wants to be a computer programmer, so, their friendship works out very well.

Jane heavily sits down beside Reagan. "I also have to worry about the foreclosure letter I got. I can't imagine moving, and the kids are so attached to you."

Reagan waves off Jane's thanks and comments that everything will work out in the end. The two women say their good-byes and part ways. Once Reagan is back in her apartment with closed doors she lets out a muffled scream. She sinks down her door and pulls out an envelope from her bag. "Why did I take you? Huh? Am I stupid?" She grills the envelope then throws it across the floor. Reagan's first move after her momentary lapse of sanity is to pull out her phone and hit the third number on speed dial. It rings. It rings again. And is half way through its third ring before the receiver of this call picks up.

"Did you miss-" Tracey begins but is not able to finish on the account of being cut off.

"I need into Oscorp. Can I visit you tomorrow?" Is Reagan's rushed greeting.

"You call someone and don't even let them say hello."

Reagan is silent.

"Fine, you can visit me at work tomorrow, but you are telling me why?" Tracey answers agitated.

"No. Thanks," and with that Reagan ends the call.

* * *

Reagan sits on the floor beside Tracey's desk; her laptop is her only focus. Reagan got into Oscorp using a visitor's pass, however, that pass doesn't apply when visiting Tech Support. Luckily most of Tracey's co-workers didn't notice or just don't give a shit about the random purple haired college student hiding in the boring cubical.

The Technical Support department of Oscorp is one of the most dreadful places in the building, mostly because nothing ever happens there. The offices are actually very nice, state of the arc or something, and they have always fascinated Reagan, so much technology everywhere. If Reagan was in better control of her abilities she'd be able to breathe in the run of power that surges throughout the building. She would be able to feel the energy flowing like blood and pulsing as though it were a living organism. Unfortunately, Reagan is not in better alignment with her powers and has no idea the high her could get from a building such as this. If she were to know about the high she could get from having complete control over her power she would never again be satisfied with the slight zeal she is getting from having her laptop navigate Oscorp's records.

Tracey, who is doing her job faithfully (as faithful as one can be while hiding a criminal), is a little troubled. Only briefly ago everything was fine, her companion was quiet and minding her own illegal business. Now, however, the criminal mastermind is frustratingly pounding her laptop keys and letting out a string of curse words under her breath.

"What is it?" An anxious Tracey whispers.

"I'm having difficulty accessing some encrypted files. It wouldn't be a problem if these weren't the files I need, but they are!" Reagan retorts. "It would be so much easier it I had the access to the mainframe."

"Getting to the mainframe is near impossible if you're job does not connect with it. I'm technical support and I've never seen the mainframe. There is no way I'd be able to get you there and I highly doubt you can get there yourself."

Reagan bit her lip, hard. She knew she wasn't going to be able to walk into the mainframe room, but she had to do something. She gave Tracey a pleading look and received an exasperated look right back.

"Wait," Tracey begin. "There is one way. Mr. Osborn has access to all of the archives, maybe if you can sneak into his office and hack into his computer you'll be able to get-" Tracey pauses, "-what was it you need again?." Tracey fakes a nonchalant attitude.

Ignoring her question Reagan mulls her option over in her head. There is no other way to get the information she needs, but if she does this then there is a large possibility of being caught. She's not getting arrested, she can't get arrested. What about her life and her family? There is no way she can consider this a possibility.

"If I get out of this alive we are no longer friends," Reagan promises Tracey.

There is no way she can consider another possibility. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, it would be easier to get into the CEO office then a place where a bunch of people could spot her at any moment.

* * *

Reagan had spent the following days planning her intrusion of Oscorp's CEO office. It wouldn't be too hard to get in. She just had to become an expert Russian spy, that, or become the Black Widow, and everything would run smoothly. Unfortunately, Reagan is not, nor will she ever be, the very flexible redhead she's seen on TV.

Also, unfortunately, Reagan missed her window of opportunity. Norman Osborn died and Harry Osborn is the new CEO. Having a health CEO makes it much more difficult to infiltrate the sanctum of clean energy. The worst thing that could happen to Reagan is being caught by a brash, media whore. Not only would she be arrested, but her arrest would have media coverage. Everything the company or juvenile CEO does is covered by media.

She doesn't have a choice though; not following through with the job would be worse than getting caught. At least if she were to be caught she'd have the law and morals to protect her.

Reagan has it all planed out; thanks to her getting her hands on Osborn's schedule. She has a couple windows where he's in a meeting. All she has to do is use her visitor's pass to get in, use the stairs instead of the elevator, and pray there will be no one outside his office watching for young purple haired hackers.

Yeah, this will go well.

* * *

**Man, that took longer then I wanted to update, been a bit busy and lazy. As previously, thanks so much for reading and I would love to hear what you people out there in the world think. Now, I must sleep. I was out late swing dancing (as one normally is) and I'm really tired.**


	4. Apologies to the Janitor

**I wanted to get this up half a week ago, but I'm getting promoted at work so I've had a lot of training for that and I was also away the whole weekend and you guys don't really care. ANYWAY, I saw The Amazing Spider-Man 2 again so I could get more ideas. I've made the decision that Max's Birthday will be a turning point in the story and because of that it will happen latter in the story. Also, Peter and Harry's man-date will happen on a different day than Max's Birthday.**

**I'd like to thank anyone who read, reviewed, and faved. Also, A special thanks to GiraffePanda2 for reviewing. I'm really glad to hear what you liked.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

* * *

**Chapter 4  
Apologies to the Janitor**

The janitorial staff is going to hate Reagan Knox.

Why? Apparently only consuming caffeine mixed with the nerves of penetrating a highly important CEO office do not blend well in one's stomach.

Tracey is playing scout at the door to the women's washroom while Reagan liberates herself of the caffeine but not the nerves.

"You done yet?" Tracey almost gags herself at the heaving sounds coming from the third stall.

Reagan, now finished, washed her face and hands, pops a mint, and moans. "Yeah, I'm good, I'm – I'm ready, so ready." She takes a deep breath to gather her focus (or whatever focus is still left in her). "I'll call you and start heading for the stairs." Reagan pushes past Tracey and heads out the door into the busy office building, as she walks to the stairwell she pulls out her phone and hits the speed dial.

"_Remind me why you need to call me?" _Tracey opens with.

"I'm less likely to be disturbed if I look like I'm on an important phone call." Reagan replies as she enters the stairwell.

The stairwell is what one would expect; the walls and the floor blend into each other through the dull grey paint that is everywhere. The only other colour to be seen is the florescent yellow that outlines the grey numbers that indicate the floor; it doesn't do much to brighten Reagan's mood. As for the sound, well, the only sound in the entire stairwell is the clopping of Reagan's feet. For someone who is supposed to be _stealthy_ at risk of incarceration; she's really shitty at it. The noise echoes so loud people outside the stairwell could probably hear it.

"Would it be mildly inappropriate if I started to sing my own theme song?" Reagan questions Tracey through the phone.

"_I don't know what worries me more: that you said 'mildly' or that you have your own theme song."_

"I don't have my own – okay I have my own theme song." Reagan hesitantly admits.

Reaching the correct floor Reagan lets out a little woo. She peeks though the door; there are a couple guards and some guys in fancy suits. The familiar feeling of sudden regurgitation comes flooding back to Reagan, however, Reagan holds strong on the account of it looking very unsanitary if she were to puke in the potted plants.

"Okay, Trace. This is what I need you for. I'm going in three, two, one." Reagan struts into the room and begins a very urgent conversation about a huge mistake that needs to be fixed as fast as possibly so everyone can keep their job. For the most part Reagan's plan works; no one has stopped her yet, although the guards have giving her strange looks.

There is a doorway Reagan needs to get through and a guard outside of it. By the look on his face Reagan can tell he'll stop her to look at her ID; Reagan thinks fast, as she gets closer to the door she ups the urgency of her voice and quickly flashes the buff man her visitor's pass. Reagan prays he didn't get a good enough look at it. There is no response from the man, and each step is bringing Reagan closer to what she assumes is certain doom. Reagan contains her fear the best she can; if this is the end she's going to go down fighting, or at the very least not crying. Reagan counts the steps down: eight steps, seven steps, six steps, five steps.

To Reagan's utmost relief the man opens the door and gives her a sympathetic look as she passes by. The door closes behind her and Reagan lets out a mix between a sigh and a cry of relief. Her heart beat is still wildly out of control and she's having a hard time catching her breath.

"I made it. Your part is done." Reagan informs Tracey.

"_Be careful, Reagan."_

"Tracey, remember; if I get caught; you don't know me." Reagan's tone is serious. "Thank you." Reagan ends the call.

* * *

Reagan's almost there. According to the blue prints her stole she just has the assistant's office and then she's there. Reagan peeks a round another doorway; the personal assistant's desk is empty. Reagan blots it down past the assistant's desk and down the hall; the doors to Mr. Harry Osborn's office are right there. This time instead of peeking thought the doors; she pushes the doors open and runs right in.

The first thing to come to Reagan's mind is 'Holy shit. Why is there so much glass?'

The second thing is 'Where the fuck is the computer?'

Reagan spins around, looking everywhere for the computer and Reagan Knox comes to a conclusion; she is screwed.

Reagan leaps over to the glass ('Really, glass,' she thinks) desk. Sliding into the chair she looks over and all around the desk. Nothing. She slams her hands down on the desk and growls.

Suddenly, the desk lights up. Reagan's hands jump off the desk and she gasps at the unexpected life from the computer. Reagan gathers her wits; she closes her eyes and steadies her breathing. Reagan brings all her focus to the desk, and she pushes with her powers. She can feel it know; the energy this desk outputs. She opens her eyes and scans what is now on the surface of the glass desk. The desk is the computer.

"Now that's just cool," Reagan mumbles.

She's fast to work, hacking in and searching through the information on the desk; looking for the archives. She taps and drags on the desk as fast as she can; she's in her element now. Reagan Knox is completely focused on the task in front of her and is also completely oblivious to everything around her. So, when footsteps echo through the hallway outside of the office; Reagan remains completely unaware.

Reagan is dragged from her trance by an angry, deep voice. Reagan, completely misses what the voice said, but realizes the fact that she has been caught. Her head whips up; Reagan thinks she's lucky it didn't snap.

Pure panic is on Reagan's face as she realizes just who that voice came from.

Harry Osborn is standing not 10 feet away from Reagan with a very livid face. His expression shows that he is expecting something, however, Reagan fails to connect that it is her response he is expecting.

Reagan immediately notices that he is exceptionally skinny and begins to wonder if she could take the brooding male in a fight. However, that train of thought is quickly lost as Harry repeats his question.

"I said; who the hell are you?"

Reagan immediately begins to hyperventilate.

She is in full on panic mode, and doesn't have any near coherent thoughts. The only idea she's somehow mustered up is 'lie. Lie and he won't know the truth.'

"Please don't call security!" Reagan pleas between her wheezes and gasps of air. "I don't wanna go to jail; please don't make me go to jail." She's practically crying now.

There goes not lying. Actually, there goes any and all intelligent sense Reagan had.

There is a brief moment of confusion and terror that occurs in Harry. The young man seems to be unsure of how to handle the stranger who has fallen into an utter mess. He's immediate response to the purple thing that apparently can't form proper English is to call security, although he chooses against it upon seeing that this mascara streaked girl is actually intelligent. It's not easy to access his computer-desk without the proper codes.

"Stop crying." Harry orders. He slowly walks toward the unknown creature, but backs up when she hiccups in what was an attempt to cease the river pouring from her face.

She's stares at him, wide eyed and opened mouth. She's full of fear and looks somewhere between a toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar and a wounded animal about to become dinner to a much more powerful predator.

After assessing the situation Harry decides it's better to make the wreck come to him.

"Come here."

Reagan grips the chair and shacks her head.

Harry groans. "I'm not going to call security." "Yet," he adds under his breath.

She is still for a moment; judging whether or not he is lying. Reagan figures that if he's going to call security it doesn't matter if she's sitting down or not. She walks slowly toward him, her arms are in front of her; protecting her, and her hands are at her face; shielding her from his glaze.

He leads her across the room and over to four blue chairs; he motions for her to sit. As Reagan shakes with nerves in the blue chair Harry fills two glasses with alcohol. Harry hands her one glass as he sits across from her.

The male slowly sips his drink and the girl, who is still a little incoherent, guzzles the drink. Only a little actually makes it down her throat; the rest roles down her extended tongue and back into her glass.

With an eye brow raised; Harry stares at her; disgusted by her display.

"Are you less hysterical now? Do you speak English?" He questions the girl.

A hoarse noise that sounds a little like 'yeah' comes from Reagan; Reagan clears her throat and repeats herself.

"Good, I can actually understand you now," He says drily. "Who are you? You obviously don't work for me. None of my employees would come to work in a tie-dye shirt and a plaid button-up over top."

Reagan looks away from him and hides her face behind the glass.

Harry sighs and leans back in his chair; he also lifts his legs up and places them on the table. "I'm not going to call security, so answer my questions."

What could happen if she does? What could happen if she doesn't? This is what Reagan is trying to determine. If she tells him her reason it's not like he's going to say 'okay, go right ahead. And you know what; here's my social security number.' No, that's not going to happen. He's going stick her to the front of Oscrop to ward off any other delinquents. Although, by the way he's eyeing her up, he'll put her in better looking clothes first.

So, what if she remains silent? What happens to her then?

Reagan looks at straight at Harry. She looks at him with defiance; she's testing for his response. He stares right back; meeting her gaze with a challenging one of his own. It's at that moment that Reagan Knox realises she is much more scared of Harry Osborn then what would happen to her in prison, and she is not comfortable with that.

Reagan places her glass down on the small white table; if she's going to face him she might as well do it without a wall.

She takes a deep breath.

Closes her eyes.

Exhales.

And looks Harry Osborn right in the eyes.

"I was hired by an undeclared party to hack into your company and retrieve information regarding animal testing by Oscrop's scientists." Reagan told Harry seriously.

Harry chuckled. "So you're just a lackey to some pissed off hippies. I'm impressed." Harry quips sarcastically; there's a small smirk still on his face.

"I made it all the way up here, didn't I?" Reagan retorts.

Harry's smirk falls and his demeanour turns serious. Harry's eyes turn toward the computer-desk and his fingers begin to roll along the rim of his glass. Harry's gazes then turns to one of his hands; it twitches as he stares. "Yes, you did get up here. And into my computer." He remarks thoughtfully.

Harry quickly puts his glass on the table beside her own and shifts his body so he is leaning over; close to her. "I'd like to hire you-"

"-WHAT?" Reagan yells.

Harry holds up his hand. "Let me finish," Harry says forcefully. "I believe-" Harry lowers his voice. "I believe my board is keeping information from me."

Reagan let's what Harry said roll around in her mind for a minute. She lets herself relax in the blue chair and hums to herself. She briefly wonders if he'll give her his social security number.

"Alright, pretty boy." Harry gives her an aggravated look, but doesn't say anything. "Let me get this right. You want me to hack into your company so you can find out what your board members are hiding from you?" Reagan can't really believe what she's asked for confirmation. It's too surreal.

"Something like that," Harry confirms her question.

"No! That's crazy." Reagan jolts out of her seat. "Do you know how much trouble working for you could cause for me? I'm out of here." However, before Reagan can walk always Harry stops her.

"Sit down, you walking eggplant." Harry commands.

Reagan submissively sits back down in the blue chair. She quickly grabs Harry's drink and sips it; she cringes at the alcohol slides down her throat.

"I have been generous with you so far. But do you know how much trouble not working for me is going to cause you?" His question is rhetorical. "I'm not going to let you just walk out of here. Either you accept or pay the penalty."

Fear seeps back into Reagan. She feels so small; unable to do anything but surrender to Harry Osborn's demand. Harry can see the fear in the physically small girl; he watches as she quivers in her seat. There's a memory that comes to Harry as he watches this girl. A memory of a young boy, just a little bit smaller then her, shivering in fear as the boy's father yells at him.

Harry clears his throat and in a calm voice adds onto his previous statement. "I can make this worth it for you. I can pay you double what your other employer is paying."

At first Reagan doesn't see the appeal. Sure the money would be nice, but it's not like she's living pay cheque to pay cheque. A thought pops into her head though, something that was said to her last week.

_'I also have to worry about the foreclosure letter I got.'_

With the type of money Mr. Osborn is offering Jane wouldn't have to worry about paying rent for a while, a long while.

"And what would I do about my current employers. If I throw them under the bus I'll be the one who's screwed?" Reagan inquires.

"You said they wanted information on animal testing. Give then the tests, not the results. So do we have a deal?" Harry holds out his hand.

Reagan delays for a second as she eyes his hand. Reagan slowly nods and grabs Harry's hand to shake. "We've got a deal."

Harry leans back in his chair and smirks at his new purple haired employee. "Do you have a proper name, eggplant?"

"It's Reagan Knox," Reagan reluctantly tells Harry.

"Pleaser doing business with you, Miss Knox," There's a certain inscrutable tone in his voice.

"You too, Mr. Osborn," Reagan gleamed with pique.

* * *

**Done. Alright guys, please review and tell me what your thoughts are. What you liked, what you didn't, what you thought of Harry, pretty much any thoughts. Thanks everyone!**


	5. An Elevator is Gonna Take Us to Hell

**Finally, it's here. I had no clue where to go with this chapter, but thanks for waiting. On another note; I have 14 follows, 10 favorites, and close to 800 views! Thank you all so much, I had hoped that people would like and want to read this story, but I didn't think a whole lot would. So again, thank you so much.**

**-MrsZayntoews19: Thank you so much for reviewing. I'm really glad you like my story and I'm even more glad you like Harry. I really hope I got this up in time for you to read it before school.**

**-GiraffePanda2: Thanks for reviewing again; it means a lot to me!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**An Elevator is Gonna Take Us to Hell**

"You did what!? Do you have a death wish?" Tracey yelled at the curled up hacker on her couch.

The two young women had gone to Tracey's apartment after Reagan's fabulous adventure of CEO office recon. Reagan had refused to tell Tracey about what occurred in Oscorp until they were in the privacy of Tracey's home. That of course pissed Tracey off to no end. When they had arrived at Tracey's home Reagan started to retell the events that had transpired today. When she got to the part about her accepting Harry Osborn's _offer _Tracey more or less lost her shit.

Reagan glared up at Tracey from her ball-like position on the couch. "He gave me an ultimatum. What was I supposed to do?"

Tracey, who was furiously marching around her living room stopped to glare, even more intensely then last time, at Reagan. "How about punching him in the throat and then getting the hell out of dodge," the brunette said through her clenched teeth.

"Are you forgetting that I was still caught by the security camera and I had set it up to look like I was supposed to be there? I would have been found, charged, and lock up in less than a day."

"Still, how could you be so stupid?" Tracey's blue eyes searched Reagan's grey ones.

Reagan curled even tighter into herself and shot her head down; making it apparent that she was done having this conversation.

Tracey let out a load muffled yell and fell down on the opposite end of the couch.

The tension was thick between the best friends as they both childishly pouted. Every so often one or the other would glare across the couch at the other. For the longest time they just sat there, like angry children in a time out. This went on for longer than either of their prides would allow them to admit.

Their childish pout-fest was finally ended when both parties turned to the other and asked "wine?"

Now with wine the two girls had silently agreed to ignore their argument and resume their conversation.

"So after we shook hands he gave me access to the archives and told me to start looking-"

"-Wait," Tracey cut Reagan off. "What did he have you looking for?"

"All he said was '_Bring anything suspicious to my attention'." _Reagan mocked in a deep voice.

Tracey gave her a look that said 'really'.

"Yeah, those were his exact words. Anyway, I spent the rest of my time on my laptop getting to know the archives while he creepily watched me every five minutes. I think he thought I was going to run away or something." Reagan finished her story.

"It sounds like you had a very pleasant day getting to know our – wow, _our_ – new boss."

Reagan smiled with fake joy.

Tracey's lips grew into a mischievous grin and her eyes became playful. "So, tell me, Reagan. What do you think of our young new boss?"

Reagan gave Tracey a dry look. "Harry Osborn? He's an asshole," Reagan deadpanned.

"Is that all? I could have told you he was an asshole and I've never meet the guy."

Reagan raised a playful eyebrow. "That's really all there is to him; he's just an asshole, through and though." Reagan paused and then added a little more seriously. "He's demanding, angry, a bit of a cock, and kind of scary…did I mention he's an asshole?"

The girls chuckled.

"So are you sure you're describing our boss and not one of your exes?" Tracey taunted.

Reagan's face went from carefree to lethal. Reagan's passed beaus are not a subject she enjoys, and whenever it is brought up the instigator of the topic immediately receives Reagan's wrath.

"New topic," Reagan demanded.

Tracey didn't listen; she likes this topic. "On a scale of boiling to scalding how hot do you rate him-"

"-I swear I will dump my wine on your sofa. Reagan tipped her wine glass so the liquid was almost at the rim.

Tracey held up her hands and yelled an urgent and fearful no. Reagan lifted her eyebrows and teased the liquid in the glass, tipping the glass slightly over and then bringing it back, only to repeat. All the while Reagan teased Tracey by saying 'ahh, ahhhh, ah.'

"Alright, just put the wine glass down." Tracey said as if she were soothing a wild animal.

Reagan gave Tracey a smug smile and tossed back the rest of her wine, but that ended with the purple haired dope in a coughing fit.

Tracey leaned back on the couch and smirked. "Smooth," she spoke under her breath.

The two spent the rest of their evening watching a movie (the original plan was for a romance, but Reagan would have none of that. She also declined to watch a con movie.) . The girls ended up settling on _Shaun of the Dead._

There's nothing like ending a stressful day at the office with blood, guts, and beheadings.

* * *

Once classes were done for the day Reagan began, rather reluctantly, toward Oscorp for her second day of joyous work. There she would happily comply with her supreme overlord. Sorry; _generous boss_.

When she gets there she'll have to endure that same generous attitude, from the '_oh so' _generous walking-daddy-issue, she also have to endure generous shouts that come from his generous face. Generous and Harry Osborn do not belong in the same sentence, and there is nothing that can convince Reagan otherwise.

Actually, there is nothing anyone can do to convince her that he is a swell guy, and not a self-absorbed asshole.

He is an asshole…an asshole that she has to work closely with for who-the-hell-knows-how-long!

What if it's contagious? Is being an asshole made? Or is one born an asshole?

Now, the whole time this was going on in Reagan's head; she had abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking and pissing off everyone on that street.

So, apparently people _are_ just simply born an asshole.

* * *

Without any more distractions Reagan had made it to Oscorp, but she was late. Harry had given her a specific time to come and start working (commit a crime. Sort of.), and she was so distracted by the specifics of being an asshole that she lost track of time. Hopefully Mr. Osborn won't notice that little indiscretion.

Reagan quickly glides through the entrance, slipping her new employee card that Harry gave her through the machine. As soon as Reagan was done there she was off again, and this time she got to use the elevator. Reagan remarks to herself on how odd it feels to be able to freely go throughout the build without worrying about being caught.

Right as the elevator doors are about to close, with Reagan inside, an arm catches the door. A nerdy, dark skinned man steps through the now opened doors to join Reagan in the elevator. The man gives a nervous, but kind smile to Reagan, and she returns it with an equally awkward and nice smile.

The man turned to Reagan; she could see a little confusion in his eyes.

"Um, I don't think I've ever seen you before. I mean, there are a lot of people who work here and I certainly don't know all of them personal and I can't say that I've seen them all, but someone with your hair would not be easy to forget." The nerdy man said to her. There was no question in his sentence, but there was a question behind his words and in his eyes.

'Oh shit, what was I thinking about not worrying?' Reagan mental asked herself. "Okay, what did Mr. Osborn tell me to say it I got asked who I was? Great, now I'm screwed because I was being stubborn and didn't listen to him. Ugh, I can't remember, crap, shit, what was it?' Reagan panicked in her mind.

Reagan realized she had been silent for too long, she looked over to the man. He was staring at her. His eyebrows were meting each other in the middle of his forehead. Reagan stared back at him with wide eyes.

"I'm, ah, um." She paused. "I'm interning for college credits!" Reagan's voice jumped as she remembered what Mr. Osborn had told her.

The man's face softened and he smiled at her again. Reagan could see that he had a gap in his teeth.

"Well, let me welcome you to the team. I'm Max; an electrical engineer." Max was a little awkward when speaking, but he still had a kind overlay in his voice. Although he was kind, Reagan could detect a slight twinge in Max's voice when he had said 'team'. Max sounded a little bitter, and with the way Reagan had been treated so far she understands why.

"Thank you, Max. I haven't really received a warm welcome since I got here." She smiled warmly at Max. "I'm Reagan, by the way." Reagan held out her hand for Max.

Max fumbled with some folders in his hands before he finally got a hand free to shake Reagan's extended hand. It surprised Reagan how strong his handshake was; she had expected the handshake to be loses and even a bit sweaty but it wasn't. It was unexpectedly strong.

Reagan's dad had always told her that you can tell a lot about a person's true character by the way they shake hands. Take Harry Osborn's: it was firm (he held himself well), and the hand shake certainly didn't linger, but it wasn't quick (professional, like he had years of practice). With Max's hand shake Reagan could tell that there was a strong man underneath the awkward, nerdy one.

Max and Reagan's hands broke apart and the two went into an awkward silence. Reagan rocked on her hills and Max tapped on the folders in his hands. They were saved from their uncomfortable post-meeting by Max announcing his floors approaching arrival.

"Well, it was good meeting you," Reagan politely told him.

"You as well," Max responded.

The elevator stopped and the door opened. Max moved to the open door, but turned back to face the bottle purple.

"Good luck, you may need it here," Max advised before continuing out the door.

"Thanks, Max," Reagan said as the doors closed.

Reagan was now alone in the elevator, and the silence was deafening to her. She was in a metal contraption and it was raising her to hell. It felt as though the glass fogged with her hot and deep breaths; clouding her vision. She couldn't see out of the box and she couldn't escape the box. Reagan tried to reach out with her powers, and the waves of energy rode passed her. Reagan could hear the untouchable energy, it laughed at her. It always did.

The elevator stopped and the door opened, ushering Reagan back to earth. Reagan took a deep breath and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Right, onward," she murmured.

* * *

Reagan thought if she sneaked in Mr. Osborn wouldn't notice. So, as lightly as she could, Reagan slid into the CEO office. She caught sight of her moody boss sitting at his desk; his head was down, facing his computer-desk. From what Reagan could see he was focused on his work, and hopefully he was too engrossed in his work to notice her. She continued on her way and she breached the threshold.

"You're late," Harry said; a little ticked.

Reagan abruptly stopped and stared at Harry. 'He didn't even look up,' she thought.

"I was – there was a – see, it was – nothing. I don't have an excuse." She told him honestly.

"Don't let it happen again, Miss Knox." Harry warned. "Now get to work."

Reagan nodded to her boss and moved to one of the two black sofas across from the desk. Reagan pulled out her laptop and started it up. As she waited for the laptop to finish she looked over to Harry, she hid her face in her hair, so not to be seen by her boss.

He was leaning on his desk with an elbow and the hand that belonged to the elbow was holding up his head. He's head was balancing on his fingers which were placed on his temple. He's posture was tense, shoulders hunched and stiff. Harry's jaw was also clenched and his eyes burned into what was in front of him. Reagan also noticed that he was dressed a little more casual today; he was in a white t-shirt with a navy blazer over top. On the bottom he wore grey khakis and a simple pair of black dress shoes.

Reagan could see the restless look on his face, and in her mind he could use a little distraction. However, also in her mind she thought 'let the ass hole suffer.' Although that's the complete opposite of what she did.

She began to stand up from her seat on the black couch and walked towards him, her reasoning being that her laptop still needed to start up. Reagan had failed to notice thought that her laptop had started up a while ago and she had been stuck staring for longer then she thought.

Her oxfords clopped as she neared him, letting out an even sound in the dead silent office. Reagan wasn't sure what she was going to say to him when she got there, so instead she focused on the clopping of her heels.

She stopped a couple feet away from his desk and waited for him to look at her. Harry had glanced up once, but ignored her and elected not to look the waiting girl in the eyes. Reagan contemplated turning around and leaving the asshole to himself, but she found that her feet didn't feel like listening to her brain and they just stood in place. So she took a chance.

Reagan cleared her throat before speaking and this time Harry Osborn did look her in the eyes.

"What are you working on?" She asked.

Harry took a moment to answer her, and that whole moment was spent looking straight at Reagan. Now she was the thing in front of him that his stare was burning.

"Don't you have work, Miss Knox?" He shot her a question right back.

"I do, sir. I'm just waiting for my computer." She fumbled with her worlds.

Harry glanced toward her laptop. "Actually, I think your computer is waiting for you, Miss Knox."

Reagan turned her gaze to her laptop, then to the floor between him and her, and finally back to him.

"It would seem so." Reagan paused to swallow. "Mr. Osborn, my work would go by _much _faster if I knew more precisely what I was looking for."

Harry cupped his hands together and placed them on the desk, he then leaned forward, placing part of his upper body on the desk. He gave her a smile, not a nice smile, or a mocking one. It was a more fake smile, like a smile one uses when they have had enough, but are still trying to be presentable.

"You're a smart woman, Miss Knox. You'll figure it out." The end of his sentence was done in the same tone of voice as when he was 'giving her a choice.' Harry turned his head back down to his work and resumed ignoring Reagan.

Reagan stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Obviously Mr. Osborn wants as little interaction with her as possible. Reagan couldn't really blame him. In all honestly she wouldn't want to interact with herself on what is soon to be a near daily basis.

Reagan was going to give up and walk back to her work when something caught her eye. On Mr. Osborn's desk was a laser etched crystal cube. The laser etching was of a DNA strand. It was really pretty, and Reagan found herself drawn to it. Against her better judgement she picked it up and turned it around in her hands to get a better look at it. Harry looked back up at her, with question and a little irritation.

"This wasn't here last time," Reagan observed. "It's really beautiful. Where'd you get?" The whole time Reagan spoke her attention was on the crystal.

It seemed this topic distracted Harry more than the last, for he had moved his attention and gaze away from his work and onto the crystal as well.

"It's a 'gift'." Harry said gift with a sarcastic tone. "It's sort of a 'sorry your dads' dead, but, hey, you own a company now.' Harry raised his hands in a mocking motion at the word 'hey'.

"Sounds like someone sent this with the intent of wanted something," Reagan committed.

Harry smirked and let out a humorous huff. "They did. Trask Industries sent it; they want a partnership."

Without even a moment's hesitation Reagan let the crystal slid from her hand and drop to the floor. It broke upon impact. The shards lay around her feet.

Reagan's gaze was hard as she looked Mr. Osborn in the eyes. "Ops," she said bitterly.

Harry leaned over his desk to view the pieces of the crystal; he then sat as far back in his chair as it would allow him too. He placed his folded hands across his middle and raised both eyebrows at the seething girl in front of him.

"Accidents happen, I suppose," was what came out of Mr. "Don't-Piss-Me-Off" Osborn.

Reagan was surprised by what he had said and her grey eyes turned from anger to confusion.

"Trask Industries thinks it can take advantage of me because of my young age and inexperience." Harry told her in a matter of fact tone.

"Oh, well. Then it's a good thing I broke it. Let them know who's in charge…or something." Reagan mumbled awkwardly.

Harry just smirked at her.

Reagan nodded and turned to walk back to her work. As she walked she thought about how she liked his dimples and would like to see them more. 'Opposed to his grumpy frown; which kind of scares me', she added in her mind.

At the same time Harry was watching her walk away, with a (slightly) goofy smirk and the thought that _maybe_ he was warming up to her. 'She has, what do old people call it? Spunk?' He thought as she sat down and began her work.

For the rest of the day Harry Osborn was a smidge less irritable.

* * *

**Done another one. Please review and tell me what you think. Also feel free to PM me. Have a good last week or so of summer!**


	6. Unacceptable Conversations with the Folk

**I'm sorry this took such a long time. You all know how life is; especially when school is starting. Also, I had written part of this chapter and decided I didn't like it, so I scrapped it and rewrote it.**

**On another note 25 followers and 16 favs! I love you guys and I'm so thankful.**

**-****GiraffePanda2: You're right; Reagan is being too harsh on Harry, but that's the point. Reagan is childish and she can be quick to judge. She wants to see Harry as the enemy; so she does. I glad that you mentioned it though, it makes me feel like I'm doing a not too bad job and this whole writing thing. Thanks for reading and reviewing, I love to hear what you think.**

**-Entermagicalrealms: I'm very glad you enjoy my story. Here's the update; sorry it took so long.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

* * *

**Chapter 6:  
Unacceptable Conversations with the Folks**

The next couple days passed painfully for Reagan, day-after-day of seeing, not to mention actually interacting, with Harry Osborn is not what Reagan Knox considers an ideal week. It's not even what she considers an ideal day. But nonetheless, she faithfully complied with Harry Osborn and her schedule he so wonderfully made for her. Although Reagan would never admit it, the week hadn't been as bad as she thought it would go. Harry was still evasive and moody, and Reagan still very much disliked him. However, things between the two of them went…not smoothly, per se. More: unproblematic. The week was awkward for the two; they had almost-conversations with minimal glaring. There was one point where they got nearly sociable with each other. That conversation went somewhat like this:

_Reagan: Morning._

_Harry: Morning._

The two really didn't talk much, as long as Reagan did what Harry paid her for; he didn't have any reason to say anything, and as long as Harry didn't say anything she did what he hired her for.

The incident with the DNA etched crystal was never mentioned again and for that Reagan was thankful. She couldn't imagine revealing the reason she has a problem with Trask is because of their standing opinion of mutants would keep her own mutation under wraps. That little fact about her is not something she would willingly disclose to anyone, let alone the adolescent owner of a major corporation. The idea of trusting Harry enough with her secret makes Reagan outwardly laugh. The only person she's told is Tracey, Reagan hasn't even told her parents. There is no way she could ever trust Harry Osborn with her being a mutant; telling Harry would be giving him her life. There is no reason in hell he should have that kind of power over her. There is no way in hell he will ever have that kind of power over her.

These thoughts coupled with the unholy hour Reagan had awoke because of a headache, made Reagan want to crawl back into bed and come out after the apocalypse has passed. However, because of the guy playing the raging bass drum inside her head she's finding it difficult to move from her place in the kitchen to her bed. Or any other surface acceptable to pass out on.

Although they didn't come often this wasn't the first time she'd gotten a headache like this, but she'd only ever had five or six ones like this. Five or six times in her life where it felt like her brain was slowly ripping apart and imploding at the same time, and every stupid time it affected her powers, or her power affected it; she didn't know; just that every time these headaches happen her powers go crazy.

Lights flicker, the radio turns on by itself, she can't even go near her laptop without it going berserk, files and webpages opening, stuff downloading, and notes being written. Once, after one of these killer headaches, Reagan found a note on her laptop that said '_It hurts, it hurts. Please stop; everything hurts.'_

The worst part is the energy signatures she senses from anything technological based. The energy pounds against her, it invades her mind and her senses. The waves of energy take over Reagan and leave no room for her own control. It's like she's drowning and every time she tries to gasp for air her lungs only fill with more water. She's unable to move, unable to speak, and unable to think anything beyond the pain. All Reagan can do is sit with her head in her hands, tears on her cheeks, and cries on her lips.

The painful, hair-tearing migraine lasts for more than a couple hours. By the time the thrashing in Reagan's head eases enough for her to gain control of her body again its well passes afternoon.

Reagan places the empty coffee mug she's been gripping on to all day in the sink; if she were stronger there would probably be cracks in it.

Reagan then pulls open the fridge door and grabs the box of leftover pizza. The box is cold, but the coldness is welcoming to her nerves. She drags her feet as she wobbles over to her couch and just kind of stumbles onto it. Like a zombie Reagan begins devouring the cold, lifeless pizza, with even more lifelessness.

"If I were stronger," Reagan sarcastically remarks to herself.

If she were stronger she'd actually be able to control her powers, use them, understand them, and she would be able to connect with all living technology. Anytime. Not just when she gets out of control, avalanche migraines, if she were stronger she wouldn't get migraines! If she were stronger – but she's not. She's weak and she's powerless and her life is going nowhere and she's stuck working for a snobby kid and – and the phones ringing.

Reagan doesn't even move; she just sits there and waits for the energetic theme of the _Power Rangers _to stop. When it does Reagan still doesn't move. The apartment is still for a moment; then the same energetic them that filled the apartment moments ago is back. Reagan grunts and rolls off the couch, then drags herself to where her phone is charging in the kitchen. Oh shit; it's her parents.

"Hey, mom and dad," Reagan greets.

_"Why didn't you pick up the first time? What happened? Are you okay? Oh my god! You're sick, aren't you? That's it, Susan! We are going to her right now."_

Reagan rolled her eyes at her father's frantic raving.

_"Lou, she's probably alright. We can't go gallivanting off to her every time she doesn't answer her phone."_ The more reasonable voice of Reagan's mother came through the phone.

_"AND WHY NOT?!"_ Her father yelled.

Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and Susan Knox, or as they like to call themselves Lou and Sue; they're adorable that way. Susan is obviously the more level-headed one in the relationship; where Lewis has a tendency to be a catastrophic mess.

"Dad, I'm fine. I just couldn't get to the phone fast enough," Reagan lied.

"_Sweetie, he can't hear you. He has the emergence duffel bag out," _Susan told her daughter. "_Lou, she's alright. Now get back over here."_

There was some shuffling and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor from Lou and Sue's side of the call.

"_Alright; I'll sit down, but I'm keeping the emergence bag with me," _Lewis stated firmly.

"_How are you? Is the Big Apple treating you right?" _Reagan's mother inquired.

"I'm doing alright." Lie. "The Big Apple has been very kind; it's been showering me with its sweet nectar of kindness." Reagan managed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"_We're really glad you enjoy it there-"_

"-_Yes; so far away from us." _Lewis cut off Susan.

Reagan heard the sound of her mother slapping her father's arm.

"_Sorry about your father. You know how he likes to worry," _Susan reassured Reagan. "_So, are there any nice boys, dear?_

_"We stress the word 'nice'," _Lewis added.

"No nice ones," Reagan mumbled under her breath.

"_What was that?" _Lewis asked his daughter_._

Reagan sighed. "No boys, daddy."

"_And you don't need one. No matter what you mother says."_

_"What?" _Susan asked more to no one then to her husband._ "I like the way she smiles when she's got someone."_

_"They make her smile, and then they make her cry." _Lewis told his wife in a serious tone.

"Enough!" Reagan yelled. "New topic," she added.

There was a small huff from Susan.

"_Well, how is your job?" _Susan asked.

"Great," Reagan said dryly.

"_I heard what happened to Mr. Osborn. It's been all over the news, and now his son is in charge." _Susan informed her daughter.

"Yeah; I meet him."

"You did!?" Both Reagan's parents asked with interest.

'Oh shit,' Reagan thought.

"He – he just had some technical issues and questions. I was just the one who got sent up," Reagan lied. The whole time thinking about the landmine she just set.

"_That must have been exciting." _Susan had always been a little gleeful when well-known important people were involved. "_What's he like?" _Susan couldn't contain her excitement at all.

"He's an asshole," Reagan replied without pausing.

"_REAGAN!"_

_"I knew it!."_

Her parents yelled at the same time. They were so loud Reagan had to hold the phone away from her, and she's pretty sure she heard her father slam his fist down on a table as he declared his opinion on the young and blonde and I-don't-know-how-to-have-fun CEO.

When Reagan brought the phone back to her ear she heard an irritated huff from her mom.

"_You can't just say that about people," _her mother scolded her.

"Well, it's true," grumbled Reagan.

"_Reagan." _Susan paused. "_His father just died, and he just had the responsibility of running a company suddenly handed – no; suddenly pushed onto him. Think about what he's going through."_

"_I don't know, Sue. That boy just has that vibe about him…" _Lewis drew the last word on. _"You should think about what he's going through," _Lewis urgently told his daughter.

"Fine," Reagan pouted.

_"And don't you start fixating on this guy-"_

"-DAD!" Reagan yelled.

_"Don't you dad me. I've meet your boyfriends, I know what kind of guys you like."_

This conversation continued with Lewis shooting off details of Reagan's passed relationships and Reagan only responding with 'dad' in various tones. Eventually this topic veered onto other subjects and Reagan and her parents talk until evening.

* * *

**Well there you guys go, a nice short chapter, although all my chapters are short...**

**Thanks so much for reading guys. I'd really love to hear what you guys have to say. Also because of some stuff this might be my last chapter for Sept, so I'm really sorry that its a short one. Have a good rest of Sept!**


	7. O' Carousel of Wisdom

**So, if I thought you actually cared about why I haven't updated in over a month I'd tell ya. Although I did make this my longest chapter to date as a sort of a sorry.**

**Thanks to everyone who followed, faved, reviewed, read, and pretty much just stuck with me.**

**-GiraffePanda2 and Cassie-D1: Thank you two so much for reviewing. It means a lot that you took the time to do so.**

**Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.**

* * *

**Chapter 7:  
O' Carousel of Wisdom**

Reagan let out a wide yawn as she walks down the hallway to Harry's office. She's drowsy and it's ridiculously early. So ridiculously early that Mr. Sun has hardly said good morning. This was the second morning in a row that Reagan had gotten up before the sun, and Reagan couldn't live this life. She was not made for this life; she was made for waking in the late morning and late nights watching Game of Thrones and Firefly. Reagan yawned again as she walked around a corner, however, she miss judged where the corner was and hit the wall with her shoulder. The force of hitting the wall made Reagan stumble back; wide eyed she caught herself and huffed before matching forward. He hated her, that's all there was to it. Nobody makes people get up this early unless they hate them.

Reagan continued to march her way into her boss's office, when she got through the doorway her vision was hit with a bright light. For the second time that day Reagan stumbled backwards, and as her did she let out a strange mix between a yell and an odd arrangement of letters that sounded something like "Glaah."

When Harry heard the bizarre sound from the startled girl, he looked up from the tablet in his hands and turned around in his chair to face her. Reagan was slowly walking into the room, shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight with her hand.

Harry smirked a bit then turned his eyes back down to the tablet.

"This whole office is controlled remotely through this tablet and I can't seem to figure out how to dim these big ass windows," Harry seethed through his teeth. He was tapping the tablet over and over with no result and each tap only made him more frustrated.

By now Reagan had made her way behind the desk to stand beside her boss. The short girl picked over Harry's shoulder to get a look at the tablet's screen. Reagan studied the tablet for a moment before putting her hand out to Harry. Harry looked up at her then down at her hand, after a moment Harry placed the tablet into her outstretched hand. Reagan fiddled with that tablet; all the while she could feel icy blue eyes on her. Reagan was tempted to glance down and catch that stare with her own; however, the fear of looking straight into those eyes was too great. Though, Reagan could see from the corner of her own grey eyes that those pricing ones never left her. She couldn't decipher the meaning in those eyes.

Reagan was getting a little warm, she was sure it was the blaring sun and not her boss's intense gaze. The stubborn woman refused to believe that the redness spreading from her neck upwards had anything to do with her boss.

The hacker found the right settings to dim the windows and she cleared her throat as she held the tablet back to Harry. Harry took the tablet from her hand, but his gaze didn't leave her. Reagan still couldn't meet his eyes or interpret his look. She ran her hand through her hair and turned to watch the windows dim, a moment latter Harry moved his stare off her and followed her turn to the windows.

The two were silent as they watched the windows dimmed. They could now see, without squinting, the sun rising over the vast sea of buildings. It was a calming moment for Reagan, and that worried her. She had never felt this calm in Harry Osborn's presence. She turned her gaze down to look at her boss. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossing and one leg propped up on the other with his ankle resting on his knee. Reagan continued to stare at her boss, wondering why she didn't feel uneasy.

Harry slowly turned his head away from the windows and towards the girl who was now staring at him. He raised his eyebrow at her as he caught her gaze with his own.

Reagan's expression turned into a panicked one. 'Goodbye to that feeling of ease,' she sarcastically remarked to herself. Reagan was fishing in her head for something to say that would make this less awkward.

"It's on a timer!" She blurted out her first thought. She internally winced at her stupidity.

Harry tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow together. He looks at her confused and begins silently mouthing the word 'what'.

Reagan rolled her eyes at herself and shut them tightly. She opened her eyes and took a long breath in. "The windows," she gestured her hand at the large wall of glass. "I put them on a timer, they'll slowly…lighten?...undim?...themselv – what would the opposite of dim be in this situation?" She cut herself off to ask Harry.

Harry shrugged, "you got me."

"Anyway they'll," Reagan gestured wildly with her hands. "Themselves throughout the next hour," she finished.

A large open-mouth smile grew on Harry's face; he shook his head at the ground before standing up. Harry slid his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. Harry teetered forward into Reagan's personal space, he was sanding at her side by she shoulder. He stood around a head above her and if he leaned forward a couple inches his head would be resting on hers. Harry stared down at Reagan; he still had that shit-eating grin on his face.

Reagan was held captive by his stern gaze and wide smile. Her breath was hitching and she was almost shaking. Reagan had though she would never be this close to Harry, and she surly never thought he would willingly get this close to her.

"Fascinating, Miss Knox," Harry quipped, barely above a whisper.

Reagan gritted her teeth and adjusted her body so her arms were crossed, she was leaning on the desk, and her gaze was no longer on Harry. At this Harry begins to chuckle thought a closed-mouth smile. Reagan refused to look at the bastard; she just stood there with her teeth clenched and a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Harry shifted his position to match his companions.

They stood close together, just a little further and their shoulders would be touching. They both watched the sun with grins on their faces, His slightly bigger than hers.

Reagan leaned her head a little over to Harry, when Harry noticed he turned his own head toward her.

"Not that the view isn't beautiful, but why are there so many windows?" Reagan asks frustrated.

"Probable so my father could look down on the lower class," Harry deadpanned.

Reagan looked at him curiously.

"My father liked to be above people, I think it made him feel powerful," He told her.

"My father liked to sit in a swivel chair and turn around to glare at my dates and tell them 'sit down son,'" Reagan lowered her voice to try and imitate her dad. "That's how he felt powerful."

Harry just looked at her, blank faced.

"I should get to work," Reagan squeaked and walked away.

Harry followed her.

"Are you..." Harry tried to find the right words. "Are you doing alright?"

Reagan turns around to look at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, I was under the impression that you'd rather eat your own liver then spend your time here – working for me. It's just that you're not so tense."

Reagan looked to her feet. "Well, I don't know about my liver, I mean some body part yeah, but not my liver." She chuckles. Then in a more serious tone adds, "I had a call from my parents last night we talked about you –"

"What!" Harry yelled.

"Oh shit!" Reagan yelled as she fell on to the couch back first. "Why do I keep doing that? I didn't mean to mention to my parents that I met you; it just slipped out." She moaned. She then quickly shot up; looking at Harry she began speaking rapidly. "I didn't tell them anything, they think I work in Tech Support and I just told them that you had computer trouble and I was the one who got sent up. That's all I told them! That and I told them I think you're an asshole – fuck!" She fell back onto the couch.

Harry hadn't said anything since the beginning of her rant, but Reagan could hear his footsteps getting further away. There were some soft sounds coming from the direction he had just gone. Reagan had not looked away from the ceiling and she didn't really want to, seeing the expression on Harry's face was not something she was over the moon for.

Reagan could hear Harry's footsteps coming closer, and from the corner of her eye she saw him sit down on the table with something in both hands.

She still didn't look at him when he began speaking.

"Are you sure they don't know anything? Because I don't want anyone to know about our arrangement any more then you do. If my board found out that I hired an independent party to investigate Oscorp they would flambé me."

Without turning her stare away from the ceiling Reagan answered him nonchalantly, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind the first part – being drenched in liquor. You know, with you being a borderline alcoholic."

"Were you dropped on your head as a child, and now when you start saying things you shouldn't you're unable to stop?" Harry asked with a twinge of anger in his voice.

Reagan sat up straight and finally looks at Harry. Her eyes went wide at the two take-away coffee cups in his hands; nonetheless she painstakingly rips her eyes away from the heavenly nectar and up to his face.

"They know nothing of my illegal pursuits. I have made sure of that, Mr. Osborn," Reagan explained in totally seriousness.

Harry just nodded.

"My assistant has a meeting at Stark Industries for most of the morning and afternoon, so she brought my coffee in early. I asked for two." He gestured toward the coffee cups in his hands. "I don't know what you take in your coffee so it's just-"

"-Pure?" she cut him off with wide pleading eyes.

"Black," he finished hesitantly.

Harry handed the coffee to Reagan and she eagerly took it from him. As she took her first sip she moaned and let her head roll back.

She felt a dip in the couch beside her as Harry switched places from the table.

It was awkward to say the least. How the two of them just sat there, sipping their coffees in silence. They refused to look at each other.

Every so often Reagan could feel Harry shift in his seat, she could also see, from her peripherals; Harry would reach his hand up to his neck, but then change his mind and draw his hand back.

Harry clears his throat; which draws Reagan's attention away from her thoughts to the person they were about.

They meet each other's gaze and Reagan looks at him expectedly.

"I have something I need you to do," Harry tells her.

Reagan's demeanour jumps up a bit. "Is that why you're being so nice and chatty?" She asks with fight.

Harry doesn't respond.

Reagan gives the young CEO a knowing look.

Ignoring her, Harry continues speaking, "I found something interesting in one of the reports you gave me."

Reagan nods.

"The report was by a lab technician. He helped my father and a Dr. Parker with some cross-species genetic experiments."

"I remember that one, but the guy was very vague about everything." There was an unspoken question in Reagan's statement.

"I suspect that was on request of my father. Do you remember the other report mentioned, the one done by Dr. Parker?" Harry questioned.

Reagan nods again.

"Good. Find it." Harry firmly demanded before getting up and walking away from the stunned hacker. "And no questions, Miss Knox."

Reagan puffed up her checks and let out all the air with a push, the escaping air made a sound. She also enlarged her eyes and clenched her jaw. With frustrated motions Reagan complied with her master.

* * *

It had been a while since Reagan begun her search for the report, and with the little she had so go on it was proving to be difficult. It also didn't help that her boss was being antsy, but then again when is he not? Every now and then Reagan could hear his fingers tapping or the scrape of his chair turning.

Because of how little Reagan knows about the report she's searching for she has to shuffle through file after file. It doesn't help that Oscorp uses such a complicated index for labelling and sorting their crap. She just can't seem to decipher the method used, and it's giving her a headache. There was also the constant clicking of a pen by her boss; no doubt intended to annoy her.

"Have you found the report yet?" His annoyed voice interrupted his pen thrashing.

Without looking up from her laptop Reagan answered him. "This isn't The Google. I can't just push some keys and find 'How to Get a Real Job.'" The last part was said with intense sarcasm.

"Well, if you could hurry up over there you could hurry up and get yourself one," Harry said with fake civility.

"Dick," Reagan mumbled under her breath.

Harry cleared his throat. Loud, and obviously trying to catch the hacker's attention.

"Is there something you'd care to share with the rest of the class, Miss Knox?" Her name was almost a threat on his lips.

Reagan looked at him and grinned wickedly, "I'm pretty sure there isn't enough to go around, Mr. Osborn." Harry's own name was said with force and detest from the purple haired female.

The two of them glared at each other from across the office, they were challenging the other. However, nothing was said; with words at least.

Reagan, in a sick spite, stops searching for the requested file and begins her own report for her other more silent and unseen employer.

* * *

Reagan packed her laptop and threw her bag over her shoulder, she begun stomping to the door of the CEO office, when she was just at the doorway, without turning around she yelled to her boss, "I'm going to lunch; I'll be back in an hour."

He indicated no response.

* * *

At the fast food place around the corner from Oscorp Reagan violently ripped her burger apart and murderously stabbed her salad for nearly an hour. For once Tracey didn't feel the overwhelming need to know.

* * *

Reagan alerted Harry to her arrival by aggressively throwing herself onto the couch. With his eyes only he looked up to her, but then quickly lowered them.

As much as she didn't want to Reagan continued with her earlier orders from her boss.

* * *

It was more than a couple hours later when the barrier of silence the two had crated was broken. The sun was still up, although it would begin setting within the next hour or two, and it was clear that the two occupants of the office were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to leave. That is why when Harry spoke the words that broke the unspoken barrier Reagan didn't protest to them.

"You may go home for tonight, Miss Knox."

As quickly as she could Reagan leaped up and pushed her belongings in her bag. She wasn't planning on saying anything to Harry, but the thought just popped up in her head and then it popped out of her mouth.

"Would you like me to curtsy before I leave?" She asked, almost not believing what came from her lips.

Harry huffed and pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Leave," he forced through his teeth.

And she did.

* * *

Reagan was so furious that all she could do was blindly walk about the city; kicking things and letting out profanities. She wasn't sure how long she had been storming about Manhattan, nor did she care, all she really cared about was how much she wished she hadn't taking the stupid job. She should have run for the hills when she realized the job would involve braking into Oscorp. She just had to be foolish.

Reagan was brought out of her blind rage by the familiar sound of her phone.

"Hello?" She snapped.

"Uhh…hi, Reagan," Jane: Reagan's upstairs neighbour answered a bit taken back.

'Shit,' Reagan cursed at herself. "Jane, hi," Reagan spoke aloud. "Sorry about that; ruff day and all. Is there something you need?"

Reagan menial slapped herself for yelling at her friend.

"Actually, there is. I have no bread to make the kid's lunch with and it's too late for me to run to the store now, so I was wondering if, maybe, you could go?" Jane sounded hopeful and very tired.

"Sure. I'm not near the building so I'll be a bit."

Reagan could hear the sound of Jane's two youngest having argument.

"Thank you so much, Reagan. I own you," Jane was distracted as she thanked Reagan.

No doubt by her kids Reagan thinks.

"Go tend to your kids, Jane."

Jane let out a tired laugh. "I will," she sighed.

* * *

"Did someone order bread?" Reagan said as Jane opened the door.

Reagan was leaning in the door way with the bag of bread held high in one hand. Jane greeted Reagan with a friendly hug before informing Reagan that her two youngest were in the bath and she needed to get back to them.

Once she had left Josh lead Reagan into the house and took the bread from her. Reagan had suggested they make the lunches for tomorrow, to help Jane out, and Josh keenly agreed.

Josh was laying out the bread and Reagan was slathering then pieces with mayonnaise when Josh asked her what was wrong?

"What do you mean, kiddo?" Reagan asked, trying to sound unaware.

"Mom said you sounded tense on the phone."

Reagan raised her eyebrow at her little companion.

"She said I had to be extra nice," he told her.

Reagan giggled. "So instead you decided to play phycologist?"

Josh had his face in the fridge getting sliced tomatoes when he answered her with a quiet "maybe".

Reagan asked him to toss her the ham, which she didn't catch.

She kept silent for a minute, fighting inside herself to keep from telling the kid about her day. She lost, though. With a sigh she slapped some ham down on to the bread.

"It's just…" She started. "I thought I'd at least try and be nice, you know? I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt and try not thinking of him as an ass – jer – mean person. I said 'mean person' and if you tell your mother otherwise so help me. Anyway, I thought he was being nice to me too, warming up to me or something. And it turns out he was only being nice to get something!" Reagan slapped ham down on the last piece of bread and growled.

Josh opened his mouth to say something, but Reagan cut him off.

"Why do people do that, huh? Why do they expect something or use you? What kind of person feels the need to do that?" Reagan could feel her tears welling up at the corner of her eyes.

The events of the whole day came out of Reagan then, but not in tears, no. In rage and in fire, and in all the pain she felt. Every time she had been lied to or betrayed came bubbling to the surface of her memories, and at the top was Harry Osborn. He was festering in her mind, and rotting every feeling she had. He was a disease to her body, infecting her and filling her with loathing.

"A person with a lot of pain in their past."

Those words from the little boy broke her. Diseases aren't supposed to feel pain; they're supposed to give pain. You're not supposed to feel sympathy for a diseases, yet here she is wondering what happened to Harry that made him act the way he does. Crap, now she can't stop feeling sympathy for him.

"Never ask a kid for advice," Reagan muttered to herself. "Come on, let's finish these sandwiches."

* * *

"_Let me get this straight_," Tracey voice sounded exhausted through the phone.

A very upset Reagan was walking down a street in Brooklyn; she had previously told Tracey her reason for going to Brooklyn.

_"You're in Brooklyn because you're mad at your boss, the guy you hate, because he gave you the day off. Am I right?"_ Tracey clearly done with Reagan's shit.

"Yes! I was pretty much at Oscorp when he called and told me "don't come in today." He's is so frustrating, and rude, and inconsiderate!" Reagan yelled.

Tracey groaned

_"Reagan, I think you need to stop looking for things to hate about this guy and actually admit that you're starting to warm up to him. No fighting Reagan,"_ Tracey cut off what she knew would be protests from her best friend. _"Not this time. Just figure out how you actually feel Reagan."_ Tracey sighed. _"Now why are you in Brooklyn?"_

"Jane's carousel," Reagan grumbled.

"_Are you there now?_"

Reagan could see the carousel ahead of her and told Tracey so.

"_So you'll be okay? You'll figure it out?" _Tracey asked."

"Yeah, I'll try," Reagan said quietly.

With that Reagan hung up.

By this time Reagan had arrived at her intended location. She looked up in awe at the carousel, the colours vibrant in the sun and the slow spin of the horses was hypnotizing. The tall clear glass box the carousel stood in loomed over Reagan.

Over her short time period of living in New York Jane's carousel had become a place where Reagan could think clearly. It was her safe haven in a way. The gentle rotation of the ride coupled with the noises of the children laughing and the water flowing calmed Reagan to where she could think without distraction.

Reagan sat down on one of the many benches, she smile to the blonde girl on the left side of the bench. The blonde seemed to be around Reagan's age, and she had a drawing pad in her hands.

Reagan settled into her seat on the bench.

'Okay, carousel of wisdom,' Reagan begin her thoughts. 'Harry Osborn, yay or nay?'

Somewhere under the denial Reagan knew what Tracey said was true; she was looking for reasons to hate him, but he had never given her a reason not to hate him. To Reagan looking for something to hate seems easier then looking for something good in him. She's hated him this far, why change now?

Reason: She can't go on working with him like this.

They don't fit together. He's distant and rude and she's…distant and rude. They can't see each other as any more than a job, and really that's all they should see each other as, they just meet, they're not friends, and they're not supposed to be friends. So they does Reagan feel like they should be? Or at the very least she should try.

Reagan turned her head to look at the water, but something else caught her attention. There were two men by the railing; one of them was actually standing on the other side of the railing. This one had dark brown hair that stuck up, a black over coat, and there was something red sticking up of his coat pocket. He very handsome and he had a smile that continued all the way into his eyes.

The other man had his back turned to her; but she could still see his light brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, he also wore a navy blue blazer and black jeans with the cuffs rolled up. Even though all Reagan could see of the second man was his back she could still tell that it was her boss and current occupant of her thoughts.

Something was different about him, his posture was the most relaxed she'd ever seen it. Reagan could tell by the smile on the handsome man's face that Harry obviously wasn't offending him.

Reagan begun to wonder who the guy with Harry was, she'd always figured Harry would spend time with his friends at a poker game, not a popular children's ride in Brooklyn.

Reagan had been staring for a while and she'd managed to catch glimpses of Harry's face. To her surprise he was smiling back at the other brunette, he looked like he was enjoying himself. He looked happy. Reagan had never seen Harry look even remotely this happy; she assumed the only emotions he was capable of was displeasure and smugness.

'Oh shit,' Reagan thought.

Harry had seen her, and he was currently still looking at her.

Reagan shot her head around so she was facing away from her unusually happy boss. There was complete panic on Reagan's face and her breathing was rapid.

'He didn't see me; he couldn't have, and even if he did how would he know it was me?' Reagan asked herself with alarm.

"Are you okay?" The blonde girl cautiously asked Reagan.

"Can I ask you something?" Reagan's voice was low.

The blonde let out a hesitant "sure" that sounded more like a question than anything else.

"My hair is still purple isn't it?"

The girl just shook her head up and down.

"Damn," Reagan muttered.

She turned back around to Harry's direction. Much to Reagan's relief he had gone back to talking with his friend.

Reagan heard the blonde shuffling behind her, Reagan assumed she was trying to get away from her, but she didn't care enough to turn and look. She had much more pressing matters, like Harry Osborn's eyes for instance.

Those eyes that she could barely face head on, although had seen many times. They were always guarded, like they knew if someone looked too close they'd be undone. Reagan had speculated the shield was for the world, for his enemies, for her, but when he turned around she had seen the same protected glaze over his eyes.

'Why though?' She thought.

Harry was with a friend; that much was apparent by his relaxed posture and sincere smile. So why is he disengaged? Why does he feel like he has to wall himself off? Even to those who care about him. And this railing hopper most certainly does care for Harry.

Yet it seemed to Reagan that all the love another had to offer couldn't keep Harry from imprisoning himself.

And Reagan knew why. Not the details of the why, mind you, but she did know the why.

"So what are you hiding from the world, Harry Osborn?"

Reagan's really happy the blonde girl left or this whole talking aloud to herself would be entirely embarrassing.

* * *

**Questions!**

**Did that get your attention? Okay, so, two questions for you guys.**

**1. Do you think I should rewrite my summary for ALLH? I just feel like it doesn't match the theme of the story, ya know. But maybe I'm wrong. Tell me what you think, also tell me if there were parts of summary you liked or even if you have ideas for a new one.**

**2. My chapters are based around Reagan, do you think I should do some chapters based around Harry?**

**You guys can either review or send me a PM to answer.**

**Alright, thank you so much guys, don't forget to tell me what you think about the chapter!**


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